


I Hope she's still proud of us.

by TypicalRAinbow



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Gen, Mockingjay, POV, team twelve
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-12 13:37:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1187250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TypicalRAinbow/pseuds/TypicalRAinbow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A horrid blunder on Thirteen’s part leads to Peeta learning a few truths about the Capitol and it’s Escorts; straight from the drunkard’s mouth. <br/>(Peeta POV, his highjacked thoughts in italics. Mid MJ- After Katniss leaves but before Peeta  joins the star squad. Implied Hayffie and in your faceTeam12 feels.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

I hope she’ll still be proud of us.  
A horrid blunder on Thirteen’s part leads to Peeta learning a few truths about the Capitol and it’s Escorts; straight from the drunkard’s mouth. (Peeta POV, his highjacked thoughts in italics. Mid MJ- Afte Katniss leaves but before Peeta  joins the star squad. Implied Hayffie and in your faceTeam12 feels.)

 

* * *

We're in my cell, Haymitch and I- I've had a good day training, painting and I even managed to have lunch in with Delly in the dining hall again- when the mirror switches to a window and a member of the Admin interrupts our game of chess asking after Haymitch.

"Can't it wait?" Haymitch grumbles, concentrating on a very battered rook. Like everything in thirteen it's been well used and very repaired. "I'm not due down there until the next broadcast briefing."

It can't be urgent or else they'd have called him by tannoy. Haymitch is always being called into command although less so now that the mockingjay is off with the star squad. They won't even be at camp yet.  _Back to the Capitol where they belong._  
Thinking of Katniss makes my vision blur for a moment and I take a pawn with more force then I meant. the plastic battered piece nearly buckles under my grip but I drop it before I break it. It clatters across the floor. Haymitch looks up at me through his hair, wary of sudden violent episodes but the admin is undeterred.

"I'm sorry Solider Abernathy but it's bad news." They say in to the mic, not looking very sorry. "Commander Heavensbee set me to fetch you."  
"Bollocks. well what is it then? " Haymitch asks and turns back to me as he gets up to leave, "sorry kid, another time."

I nod in understanding but the admin continues, looking down at their clipboard,"Soliger Mellark may wish also to accompany you. Mission control have given him clearance-"

"For what?" Haymitch asks again at the same time as I ask,  
"Is that a good idea?"

"Guards have been arranged to accompany him for your protection." The admin says answering my question but addressing Haymitch. That's hardly a reassurance and Haymitch is getting really annoyed now.

"I ain't taking the boy anywhere without knowing what risks to him there will be or what the hell Plutarch has planned." Haymitch says angerly. What the admin says next however changes our minds and confirms one of our worst fears.

"In brief," the Amin says, checking their file, "a squad of our soilgers gained ground thirty six hours ago and were able to capture the capitol prison- fully this time rather than specific targets. At Commander Heavensbee request several allies found still alive where immediately given medical attension and air lifted back to thirteen for further treatment. I'm afraid I've been asked to inform you however that Prisoner Euphima Trinket was found to late."


	2. Chapter 2

"I'm afraid I've been asked to inform you however that Prisoner Euphima Trinket-"

My interest is beyond sorrow but even though we both know what the admin is going to say next, it's not real, I want it to be a highjack or hallucination Or a drunken nightmare for Haymitch, who suddenly crumples before my eyes with a hollow despairing groan that doesn't sound human –

_Because he isn't human he's a mutt, they're all mutts-_

It's not real.

"Was found found too late. Her injuries it proved were to servire."

_They're trying to kill you, Effie's here but you killed her, it's her fault you went into the games and now you've killed her you killed your family you killed everyone no Katniss killed everyone Katniss is the monster-_

It's not real we're still here-

"I'm sorry gentlemen,-" the admin continues. The words are miles away even though they're from the next room and get jumbled with my own voice inside my head.

_No no no no Haymitch tell them tere lieing_

"The medics treat her best they could-"

_Liar Liar No no no no Liaring_

" but she went into shock mid flight and the prisoner barely made it to thirteen. at ten fifty three this morning she was declared beyond help and they stopped resuscitating."

There's a sudden crash and a roar. For a second I think it's me but it's not it's Haymitch. He's finally unfrozen and has flung the table chess set and all across the room. His boot collides with his chair and that goes flying into a wall and he's just standing there panting and bellowing and the admim is yelling at him at me but all I see is Effie –

_Effie with her promts, Effie checking on us, as we all danced at the Victor's ball, Effie smiling, Effie screaming,_

and all I want is to do tell her to tell Haymitch how sorry I am-

_But is any of this happening?_

I don't want it to be happening I want it to be a tracker jacker trick, I want all of us together again.

And I don't want Effie Trinket to be dead.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double chapter, I couldn't find a nice breaking point. Sorry for the angst.

I don’t want it to be happening I want it to be a trackerjacker trick, I want all of us together again. And I don’t want Effie Trinket to be dead.

*

I must have passed out. I’ve no memory of how I’m on the floor but the first thing see is lino and the far wall because I’m laid curled up on my side and Haymitch is crouched beside me, easing my arms away from my head. I tense on instint but my limbs go in to spasm.

“Woah. easy, easy. Let’s get the medics to look at you.” He says in his gruff voice, but soft and the nearest thing to calming I’ve ever heard him. I’ve never heard him like this. I’ve never sen him like this. I’ve seen many saddened and grief striken faces in my time, but I struggle to think of a face that look at me and pull at my empathy as Haymitch’s  does now. Not even my fathers after my first reaping or when he visited me after news of the quarter quell.

 “You in there Peeta?” Haymitch asks and I nod trying still trying to stop my body trembling. I wonder what must be so bad that he’s calling me by my name and then I realise I’ve been crying; my face is snotty and damp, and my eyes are damp too and stinging

“No physical damage done.” A kind voice with a district six twang tells me. It’s a medic who, together with Haymitch, helps me sit up. The admin is still there behind the glass watching us now flanked by guards. “You started screaming and pulling at your hair,” The medic continues, ginger stretching out my limbs, “But you fainted before we needed to sedate you.”

“I don’t blame him,” Haymitch says. He sounds empty and hollow. “Sorry for setting you off, Kid.”

“It wasn’t you.“ I say. And then I remember why I’m crying and why Haymitch is upset. Effie. Our shrill, demanding trivial bossy, wonderful Effie Trinket.

“It happened didn’t it?” I ask. “Effie- Effie is-“

I can’t even say it. I feel sick and my eyes fill with tears again. I hope he’ll laugh and tell me I was having an episode but hope is dashed when Haymitch nods his head, like the tolling of the bell.  I grip the hand on my shoulder and grit my teeth, trying not to sob like a baby.  I’m fond- I was fond Effie, so very much, as one may an older sister or an aunty and guilty, I realise more then I may have done my own brothers. But I know she meant –something- to Haymitch, some bond between the duo, far then they let on. I’ve never known him face a death like this. So I must be brave and make her proud. Proud of her victors, both sitting there gritted teeth and wet eyes, our knuckles white trying to be strong for each other.

Haymitch chokes however when the medic, with far more compassion then the admin, says tentivly, “She’s in what’s called the halls of rest now. Commander Heavensbee thought you’d like to pay your respects before she is cremated.”

“Of course we would!” Haymitch bellows, making us both jump, the medic (Charlake, I see by the name tag)  to their feet, flincing and embarrised. I don’t care. Effie would have. She’d have apologised to Charlake and rounded on us with a hiss of  _attuite,say you’re sorry or,_  as I mutter,  _“_ Manners,” before I realised the word has left my lips. Haymitch stares at me and I brace myself for a punch that never comes. Instead after a trembe of of rage his breath hitches and he applogises to the bearer of bad news, dropping back on to his hanches.

 He looks so tired. I bet he’s wishing he could drink himself to death, quite literally drown himself and all his sorrows in vat of alcohol. I know this because right now I wish I could do the same and suddenly life as a drunk, more often passed out then sober and wake, seems very appealing. He catches my gaze again and offers me a grim heavier hearted half smirk, but the light has completely left his yellowing grey eyes.

“Come on kid,” he grunts helping me up as we get to our feet, fake leg and all. “let’s say go say goodbye.”


	4. Chapter 4

We follow the admin to the hall of rest, the guards bringing up the rear. Our only stop is via the sick bay for Charlake to pick up stronger tranquilisers, just in case I need to be sedated and we pass but a few people on the way. There had been condolences and some attempt at small talk on the medics part but it rapidly dwindles until till the only sounds are the background hum of thirteen's lights, our boots on the floor and my chains.

Handcuffs, attached at the front thankfully, and ankle cuffs; both attached to a loop around my middle over my shirt. I can walk at a comfortable stride but not run, I can move my arms quite freely as the chain isn't so short my writs tar conjoined. I just can't move one without the other nor to far forward or above my head to strike, and on tugging them it would take a lot of effort to break. I'd made no protest on wearing them as there was no telling what might occur on seeing a body-  _(I can't think of it as Effie's just yet-I mustn't)_  but I now wish I had as they clank and jingle happily, despite the situation, as the six of us make our way down various corridors.

Even though the hall is set not too far from my cell it seems to take both forever and far too quick. There's another 'guard' waiting outside - a plague scared Thirteen boy with a crew cut who looks even younger then Prim, stood behind the desk with a large ring of keys attached to his belt. He must have been notified of our clearance as the admin only has to give him our surnames and the file from the clipboard before leaving us, duty done. Had we been in the capitol, Haymitch might have tripped them as they past us.

The little guard boy skims the top sheet, nods and unlocks the double doors leading us into another corridor, one of closed doors. It's colder here the other places of the underground city I've been and there gentle unidenfied music playing though a speaker system, just enough to be heard above the hum of the dim lights. It seems very peaceful but as we pass an open empty room I stumble and the soldiers nearly bumps into me before nudging me to continue. I've see the sinks and metal trays inside and I realise the halls of rest isn't just a moughe or a funeral pallor, but an autopsy unit too.

_How like thirteen to have a duel function for a place. No wonder it's so close to medical bay._

"Solider Mellark?" I've lagged behind despite another encouraging nudge forward. Haymitch has noticed and waits for me.

"Peeta? Come on Kid." I barely hear him. All I want is air. Sweet fresh air not Thirteens recycled stale lungful's. But I fall back in to line, counting our steps as we go. "I feel like we should be wearing some gaudy Capitol Suits." Haymitch mutters, more to himself then to me. "It's what she'd have liked."  
"Big big day- Eyes bright Chins up, smiles on." I say. It's automatic and my voice cracks like an old recorded.  
"Yeah. But if you keep mimicking her like that- I dunno, Jabberjay…" He trails off, unable to form a sentace as if walking down this hall takes all his concentration. Another few rooms pass before the little guard comes to a stop. He unlocks the door and steps back to let us in front.

Neither of us move.


	5. Chapter 5

"Haymitch?"

"I don't think I can."

The boy seems uncertain what to do. He looks at the older soldiers for guidance but they say nothing so he squeaks, "Please, take as long as you need."

"Thanks, kid." Haymitch nods and turns back to me. "You go in ahead if you want."

"No. we both need to this Haymitch." I say, the words tumbling out in a blub. "We owe her and there's so many people we never got a hance to say goodbye to. We'll regret it if we don't."

"Are you telling me or yourself?"

I'm not the mood to joke. I lurch forward with snarl. Haymitch jumps back arms up in defence and the guard's grab my arms but sink to my knees almost instantly, limp and panting, as the voice in my head scretch and fade. Seems I'm not in the mood to fight either. Charlake cautiously gives me a quick once over. I can count to ten forwards and backwards. I know my name, where I am and who I'm with. It seems to satisfy my company and I'm helped back up to my feet.

"Can I still go in to say goodbye?" I ask. I'm allowed but I'm also given the mildest sedative, which I swallow.

"Do you want your cuffs taken off?" I'm asked.

"Can I?" I am conflicted. "I don't know. Is that a good idea?"

"If you want them off, that's fine," One guard says, "but we'd have to accompy you inside along with your medic."

"Those are our orders I'm afraid." Says the other, a little more kindly. I decline. Effie wouldn't have liked to see me in them but I'd rather not have soligers hovering around as I say goodbye and the chain allows some movement. It's for the best I keep them on. The soliger nods in understanding, the other tells Haymitch he is to shout if need be but they take up station just a little way back down the corridor to give us space, the boy following suit.

It leaves just me and Haymitch.  
"I'll go in. I just need a moment." He says. I don't really want to go in alone or first but I offer. Haymitch sees my hesitation. "You sure?"  
"Give us each a chance for privacy I guess? Just don't wander off? Or leave me to long?"" I reply. He says he won't. He doesn't promise but it's enough.  _I can't trust his promises anyway ._ "Maybe smarten yourself up a bit?"

"Yeah. Yeah she'd have like that." He says then sniffs and clearing his throat, making an effort to sort out his collar. I take a shaky hand in my both of mine. I don't know why. His clenches into a fist at the touch then relaxes and I'm suddenly pulled into an embrace, much bigger and fiecer then our quell goodbyes. He even claps my shoulder like a prodigal son. And then it's time to go Charlake holds the door open for me and one last nod at Haymitch, I step inside.

And- I can't believe my eyes or ears!

"Peeta? Oh Peeta dear I was so worried..."


	6. Chapter 6

And I can’t believe my eyes or ears-!

“Peeta? Oh Peeta dear I was so worried...” Her smile lights up the room and my heart soars, giddy with joy.

 But then I blink and along with the white noise and bizzare colours, Effie’s gone.

On the metal table, is a corpse. I don’t know how I was expecting any different but I should know by now I cannot always believe what my eyes and ears are telling me. The door swings shut as we enter. I had to summon my courage to enter and now I’ve to do so again to go closer spotlight unintentionally like an alter.

 “I’ll be right here,”Charlake whispers in reassurance giving my shoulder a pat before moving back. “and I’m sorry for your loss.”  
  
 I nod in thanks then I close my eyes, take a breath and open them again, slowly walking forward my chains clink against the floor counting the steps as I go.

Nothing has changed. On the table in a pool cool light is the woman’s body. I still don’t know why I was expecting any different but I was. I still keep thinking, keep hoping that Effie would be there alive and well: complaining how rude people had been, how the schedule was all out of order, how I was under fed and tired- how dare they treat a victor like this- saying things like “Come along Peeta dear”, “chin up give them that dashing smile of yours”, fussing and preening over me like a proud mother pea-hen, complete with feathers and frills.

I wish there had been feathers and frills. I had been prepared for death and steeled myself for the cold and stillness, but not for the simplicity. The corpse is just a corpse.  There are no elaborate wig or high heels, no pretty gaudy dress or long bizzare fake lashes. Nothing that screamed "Effie" and she seems naked without them, despite the plain grey gown that covers her from collar bone to ankles although her fore arms are bare.

But was she found like this, with nothing to her name but her name the peacekeepers taking back her things or had Thirteen striped her bare of her capitol coutarge?

The short walk is barely five steps but like the corridor it seems to have taken far too long and I draw up to the side of the table after what seems an age. I’ve never seen Effie without her make up. I wonder how many people had. She looks far too young, younger than I thought she was, to be lying dead on a slab as another victim of war. The make-up and her duties must have aged her. Now there’s no youthful bloom to her skin at all fake or otherwise.

There’s still bruising, like purple and yellow blooms, and some cuts too but no blood stains. They, the morgue staff, have cleaned her as well as dress her so drably I realise. Where her skin is not marked she’s as white as the chalk her face was once covered in, abiet with a blue tinge and her nose is different bent out of shape from being broken. She’s skin and bones but then a citizen whose never missed a meal would have found it impossible  to have adapted to starvation like those on the Seam once had too all their lives. Her lips are chapped and thin, very marked with several splits in the lip, the skin around them peppers with bloody spots that I know to be needle marks. At least the thread has been cut away. But there are things that won’t fade or wash away things that can’t be cleaned. Like a brand on her arm, burnt into her skin; T for Trinket perhaps, but most likely traitor.

And more disgustingly the bastards who imprisoned her have taken a pound of flesh. They have cut off a thumb and most of her little finger on one hand, and the three fingers of the other; a mockery of the symbol once used in Twelve for goodbye but now known across Panem as just another way of sticking it to Snow.  _I hate Katniss for turning it into a symbol of rebellion._  I doubt Effie ever raised the salute- she began to fear it’s consequences to greatly- but, like a bully pulling the wings off a dying butterfly, the capitol made sure she couldn’t show her true colours even if she’d wanted too.

I pause a moment then I offer up a prayer for Effie Trinket to whoever listens to them, pressing my prayer in a kiss on my own three fingers. I raise a salute in Effie’s name, reaching up as high as the chains will let me then press the blessing on her cold temple. I’m crying again and it is all I can do relax my fingers, stroking the fuzz of her cruelly cropped hair. After all those pale and bright wigs, her natural hair seems  a shocking contrast to the bleached eyebrows, possible the only capitol trait she’ll now take to the furnace with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I am a horrible person. I was asked to keep her alive- I tried but I didn't want to change the plot midway through a story, sorry. :'(


End file.
